Once upon a time, like 3 weeks ago, a group of us were out on the town in Nashville. It was a gorgeous evening filled with food, drinks, laughter, and amazing company. I could relive that night 100 times. 

We had dinner at this incredible Asian Fusion restaurant called Sunda. Highly recommend it if you are visiting the city. There is something for EVERYONE: Vegetarian, Vegan, gluten-free, and of course, the gluttonous. Their attention to detail is spot on, and they are paying attention even when you aren’t speaking directly to them. After overhearing our son-in-law talk about how hungry he was, we were miraculously served appetizers on the house. I mean, when and where does that happen? 

For the record, because I believe it will be important later, I had one drink at dinner. 

One. 

After a leisurely dinner where we shared everything and ate every morsel, we walked across the street to one of our favorite rooftop bars, LA Jackson, which sits atop the Thompson Nashville Hotel.

I also had one drink here. One Gin and Tonic. Did the bartender forget the tonic part? I don’t know. I can neither confirm nor deny, but G had the same thing. We both seemed fine to me. We took photos, laughed, and danced a little on the way out, which seemed to garner laughter from my daughter and husband. I mean, I’m fun and I like to dance. This isn’t new. Had it really been that long since we went out in the city?

We decided to make an early night of it and head home. However, Sydney and Jake had the Uber driver take a detour to one of their local hangouts. We walked through the entire place looking for people they knew, but alas, we were stuck with one another. I decided I needed to use the restroom while the others found a table. 

After standing in line for approximately 20 minutes, I began to reflect on my journey through the bar, the people in line, and the people walking by me, and I had an epiphany. I was the oldest person in the bar. 

About that time, Sydney walked up and asked me how I was doing. I told her about my newfound knowledge, and she laughed, but looked around to try and debunk my status. She couldn’t deny it, but I knew she would keep looking. 

Upon making it to the table, where I might add, they were all drinking, Sydney announced that Mom thinks she is the oldest person in the bar. Andy, who loves to gloat that he is younger by 84 days, 85 on a leap year, enjoyed this revelation thoroughly. It was the week before Halloween, so a lot of people were dressed in costumes. I wanted one of my own, so I donned my sunglasses and stole Andy’s hat. I don’t know who I thought I was, but maybe nobody would notice the old lady. 

Sydney and G decided that there was a guy at the bar who looked older, perhaps. They dared me to engage him in conversation, find out how old he was, and get a photo with him.  Because I took this dare, they all decided that I had definitely had too much to drink. I had not. I believe they were just deflecting their obvious ageism by saying I was tipsy. Can’t an old girl take a dare?

So, I meandered up to the bar, put my arms around two guys, and said, “I was just wondering if perhaps one of you would like to get your photo taken with the oldest person in the bar this evening?” Immediately, the guy who was “potentially” older than I was turned around and said, “I doubt you’re older than me.”

In hindsight, I should have made him tell me his age first because I think he might have been too nice to tell me, “dang, you really are the oldest one in this bar.” I said I was 55 and he responded that he was 56. I told him I didn’t believe him, but I still wanted a photo of us together. I needed to complete my dare.

And you know what? I don’t care if I am the oldest person in every bar, restaurant, dance club, or bathroom line I’m waiting in, as long as our kids keep taking us out with them.